


Almost

by meredithhildebrand



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 18:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meredithhildebrand/pseuds/meredithhildebrand
Summary: it's funny, how fast things can change. one second, he's standing there, with his hand against the glass window, staring out at the rolling green hills and bright-blue sky.just across from him, is someone else. but this time, he's taller. Slimmer. Black hair, as dark as midnight. Pale skin, the shade of freshly-fallen snow.they both don't know that something unfathomable is around the corner.





	Almost

  
it's funny, how fast things can change. one second, he's standing there, with his hand against the glass window, staring out at the rolling green hills and bright-blue sky.  
just across from him, is someone else. but this time, he's taller. Slimmer. Black hair, as dark as midnight. Pale skin, the shade of freshly-fallen snow.  
they both don't know that something unfathomable is around the corner.

_and then, like a light switch turning off, everything goes black, and the world just crashes into itself, erupting into the sound of pure destruction._

 

_\---_

  
when Simon wakes up, everything hurts. his head, his chest, his legs. he can't remember the last time he felt this much pain, and he clenches his jaw tightly together. he can feel a needle poked into his arm, and can very faintly hear panicked voices fading into his senses. pain is filling his whole body. 

_so much pain. so much pain. so much pa-_

and then, everything comes back, and he knows that he's in a hospital, he knows, he knows, he knows. he can smell the bleach, the chemicals, the stench of plastic materials.

he sees faces fading into view, but he can't make out what they're saying, and he feels like he's spinning in a circle.

for the second time, the world blinks out, and the darkness drags Simon underneath.

\---

Baz isn't nearly as fortunate. The EMT's in the field assess him, and declare him in need of critical surgery. he lives, he dies, no, he lives. he lives. he lives. he lives.

he's taken in an ambulance, with another one taking Simon just shortly behind.

it's almost funny, how they are the only survivors.

the doctors pump both of them full of drugs, and they're trying to slow death from rushing in and plucking both of them from the world. and it almost works.

\---

a doctor, with brown skin and long, curly dark hair and glasses whispers something into Simon's ear. she likes to pretend that he's just sleeping. that he can hear her, in a different universe. in a more forgiving one.

_keep fighting. keep fighting. keep fighting. we've done our part, and now it's your turn. you can still get out of this. you can wake up, if you try._

_if you try._

she knows that it's just wishful thinking. she knows it's illogical.  
she knows that he can't hear him. she knows that it's all up to him, no matter what happens. she can only do so much. she knows that it's just a silly superstition that isn't true. it doesn't work. she knows that she only says it to numb the pain of the harsh realities that she deals with every day.

she knows. she _knows_ , and that's what makes all of this almost funny.

 _almost_. it's the saddest word, she thinks.

he _almost_ made it.

we _almost_ saved him.

he was _almost_ okay.

and it's easy to say that it's okay when it's really not. it's perfectly easy to let go of lies.

knives and scalpels dip in and out of Simon's near-broken body, and every few minutes, another doctor is sent into the operating room. another doctor who looks at Simon's insides and can't pull themselves together long enough to realize that he's fixable.

he's _fixable_.

the beeping of Simon's rapidly rising and falling pulse and heartbeat ominously beats throughout the room, and death is just around the corner. the doctors can sense it. their voices rise in volume, and tension is running high. ways to save Simon are being thrown back and forth like an intensifying table tennis game.

death is taking its time. it's above Simon, watching him. seeing if death will really be the better choice. bad. good. bad. good.

it can't decide. and normally, death has no problem with deciding. its job is fairly simple. take them, let them stay, take them, let them stay.

but when it looks down at Simon's broken body, he knows that beneath it, lies a soul that isn't done yet. he wants a life. he has one. he isn't done yet.

death squints its eyes. taps its foot anxiously against the floor, bangs its head against the walls. bites its nails so low that blood begins to surface on the tops of its nail beds.

_and then, as if it was just automatic, death decides to leave._

and Simon's pulse and heartbeat rise back up, to everyone's fascination. the doctors are surprised. floored. they don't know what to think.

Penelope, the doctor with a little bit more sunshine inside of her than most, whispers, with awe laced into her voice...

"it's a miracle."

It's silent, barely there, but the rest of the doctors agree, eyes glued to the monitor, like a toddler with eyes glued to a lollipop that's just one inch out of reach.

_A miracle._

\---

in the room next to them, another team of surgeons race and work against the rapidly-moving clock, trying to beat it to the finish line.

" _he's going into v-fib."_

_"quick. get the paddles."_

_"charge to 100."_

_"130."_

_"charge again. 150."_

Baz is exhausted. his body is exhausted.

but he still wants to live. in fact, it's all he really wants. it's a big, blinding flash. a feeling. a want inside of him so large that it's consuming his whole being. 

he hates the world for doing this to him. he knows that it's selfish of him, but he can't help it. 

he knows he's dying. 

maybe he's _almost_ dead.

_he can't feel pain anymore, and he has a strange, faint feeling that that's a bad sign._

another doctor suddenly rushes into the room, with her hair half-falling out of her frizzy ponytail and her glasses smudged with access mascara from her old tears.

"just wait. stop."

_the doctors are beside themselves._

_"Stop?"_

_"Are you insane? Why would we do that?"_

_"He's dying."_

_"We have to save him. Can't you see that?"_

Penelope just swallows, and closes her eyes. she takes a step forward, clasps her hands together. opens her eyes. her throat feels dry and she can feel her heart pounding like rain against a tin roof in her chest.

"just wait," she says, her voice almost a whisper.

there it is again. almost. it's an addictive word to use.

_almost._

and they do. they wait.

everything stops. 

 _waiting_.

**Author's Note:**

> welp. 
> 
>  
> 
> i really need to stop watching grey's anatomy because fics like this are written.


End file.
